


you make me dream of peonies

by GreenyLove



Series: twitter threads [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Flirting, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Inappropriate Humor, Kuroo Tetsurou is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Menstruation, Not Beta Read, Pre-Relationship, Sickfic, Sort Of, Trans Male Character, Trans Tsukishima Kei, emotional masochist kuroo tetsurou, kuroo week 2020, side: kenhina, side: oisuga, trans character gets outed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25992820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenyLove/pseuds/GreenyLove
Summary: Kuroo turns to the counter and immediately catches Tsukishima’s eye. A slow grin curls up the corners of Kuroo’s mouth. He reaches down to the bottom of his cart and pulls out a fresh bouquet, with all the flourish of a magician prepared to dazzle his audience. The blonde stiffens.Ah, yes. The highlight of Kuroo’s week.(Or, how florist Kuroo finally woos his stubborn barista.)
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Series: twitter threads [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814404
Comments: 14
Kudos: 207





	you make me dream of peonies

**Author's Note:**

> adapted from a thread originally posted on [twitter](https://twitter.com/greenywrites)
> 
> can be read as a direct follow-up to [you make me think of sunflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25635739) or can be read alone. all you need to know if that kuroo owns and operates a flower farm and kenhina got together recently.
> 
> some notes on tags!  
> \- implied/referenced homophobia: happens very briefly where one character mentions another character having a rough time in high school. no specific instances of bullying are mentioned or described in detail.  
> \- trans character gets outed: there is a scene towards the end where a trans character gets outed. it happens on accident and is in no way malicious, and the other character involved reacts compassionately. but it does happen, so if that is potentially triggering, stop reading at "he hold out the shopping list" and resume at the next scene break.
> 
> enjoy! <3

Kuroo parks the large white delivery van in front of RefreshKing Coffee House and sighs happily. It’s one of those dreamy summer mornings where the air smells like wet grass and the birds splash in puddles while sunbeams diffuse through misty, golden fog. It reminds him of those classic Western period movies, where men in loose white shirts tromp across the moors at sunrise and think about love. 

Damn, Kuroo loves those movies. Maybe Kenma will watch one with him this weekend. If he isn’t too busy staring shyly at his new boyfriend from a respectable distance, or whatever it is they do when they’re alone. 

He’ll text him later. 

For now, he yanks the bandana out of his hair and spends a few hopeless minutes trying to style it in the rearview mirror. Convinced he looks about as good as he can possibly look given he’s been manually laboring since dawn and only had time to change into a clean denim shirt while Hinata loaded the van, he snags his clipboard off the passenger seat and gets to work. 

He pats the side of the van as he walks to the back. The new logo looks amazing: simple and playful, the outline of a cat head made in the black negative space between various blooming flowers. It’s bright and bold and admittedly much better than the first iteration. The day Kai parked the newly detailed van in front of the shop, Kuroo whistled and Kenma ducked his head to hide the proud smile on his face. Shrimpy screeched for a solid twenty minutes about his smart, talented, sexy boyfriend. It was gross and not something Kuroo needed to hear about his childhood best friend.

“No more flirting,” he ordered with much solemnity. “At least while you’re on the clock. It’s unprofessional.”

Kenma didn’t even look up from his Switch. “How’s your barista conquest going?” 

“Hey now.” Kuroo flicked Kenma’s forehead as he passed by. “That’s different. I’m salaried. I can do what I want.” 

“Okay, Kuroo.” 

Throwing open the back doors, Kuroo unfolds his rolling cart and loads up with buckets of fragrant flowers. RefreshKing is one of his first big clients, contracting Black Cat Botanicals to provide fresh, locally grown flowers for their cafe table settings. Every Sunday, Kuroo comes just before opening to deliver and install arrangements for the upcoming week. This time, he has lilacs in blue, violet, and white, along with some dogwood cuttings and sprigs of fresh sage. The result should be aromatic and charming, perfect for the rustic and relaxing atmosphere inside the coffee house. 

Sugawara meets him at the door, perky as ever. “Morning, Kuroo! Can I help with anything?” 

“Please, good sir, I’m a professional.” Kuroo eases the cart over the bump in the doorway, returning the silver-haired man’s megawatt smile with his own confident smirk. 

“Oh?” Sugawara tilts his head. “They sent a professional this time?” 

The gleam in Sugawara’s eyes has him laughing. “Oh, fuck off!” 

There’s an indignant gasp from across the cafe floor. Oikawa, co-owner and pastry extraordinaire, stops stocking the display case to wag a finger at Kuroo. “Rooster-chan! No swearing. This is a respectable establishment.” 

“Oh ho? Is it?” Kuroo waits until Oikawa turns around to confirm his suspicion. Ah, yes. He thought Sugawara’s shirt looked a little rumpled. “Is that why you have a flour handprint on your ass? You and your business partner doing respectable things in the kitchen?” 

Oikawa squawks, nearly cracking his head on the glass case in his hurry to twist around and examine his rear end. There is undeniably a large white handprint, stark against the black fabric of his pants.

“Kou-chan!” he wails, scandalized. “These are my favorite slacks!” 

Sugawara snickers, wiggling into the Oikawa’s arms and resting his hand perfectly on the dusty white print. He squeezes playfully. “And this is my favorite ass.” 

Kuroo pretends to gag. 

A clatter from the kitchen, and Baldy barges through the door, apron around his neck but fluttering untied around his waist. “Oy, tone it down,” he barks at Oikawa, who is now peppering Sugawara’s face with kisses. “The youngsters are here.” 

Another boy ducks behind him, the morose one who always looks half-asleep, followed by the tall one — oh, the tall dark-haired one, with the slick undercut. The team falls into rhythm, opening the cafe, so Kuroo rolls up his sleeves and focuses on his own work. The week-old blooms, just now beginning to droop, he dumps in a small compost container before wiping down the glass jars and nesting them carefully in their storage crate. It’s repetitive, soothing work — at least, when he lets it soothe him. Today he fidgets, cleans the same jar three times, tries not to glance at the clock on the wall. 

RefreshKing opens in twenty minutes and  _ he _ is nowhere to be seen. 

Baldy says something that has Sugawara throwing his head back in laughter while Oikawa sputters. “You have the worst opinion of me, Tanaka! It’s always Kou-chan’s fault. I was innocently icing scones when he came in looking like this.” Cupping his partner’s rosy cheeks, Oikawa squishes them together, angling Sugawara’s face towards their employees. “See? Look at this demon!” 

Sugawara blinks coyly, sticks out his tongue, and winks. Oikawa glares at him, like one might glare at a cute puppy, which is to say, not convincingly. 

“Sorry, Tooru,” Sugawara singsongs, petting down the front of his boyfriend’s shirt. “I’ll be better next time.” 

Oikawa sighs. “No, you won’t.” He looks so hopelessly in love, Kuroo grimaces and looks away. “What a terrible temptress you are.” 

“Are they reciting their wedding vows again?” 

Kuroo looks back.

Tsukishima Kei enters from the back, hair sleep-mussed and eyes hooded behind his glasses. He clips on his name tag and mumbles an apology for being late. He surveys the shop and what he finds does not surprise or impress him. When those honeycomb eyes skim over Kuroo, it sends his heart swooping through his chest. 

Baldy elbows Tsukishima and Sleepy silently hands him a bus tub filled with clean utensils. It’s twenty minutes to open and Kuroo is woefully behind, but if there’s anyone he would gladly let mess with his routine, it’s a certain sullen blondie who stares through him like he’s furniture.

(Hey, he knows what he likes, okay?)

This week’s arrangement is so elegant, he can’t help but pause and admire the first one he puts together. Lilacs and dogwood arranged in short white ceramic vases, shorter stems of pale and fuzzy sage tucked neatly amongst the leaves. An artful balance of colors and textures, finished off with a few loops of jute twine wrapped around the rim. Not tall enough to be obtrusive to customers sitting across from each other, but still enough to draw the eye and provide a pleasing pop of color. He snaps a few pictures for social media, and to show Kai, who had questioned the sage. Foolish of him, honestly, because Kuroo is a genius. 

“Oh, these are so lovely, Kuroo,” Sugawara says, coming over to examine one as Kuroo finishes off the last table. 

Kuroo grins. “Careful. If you say that every week, I’ll get a complex.” 

“I think it might be too late for that,” Sugawara replies with mock regret, before giving him a kind pat on the arm. He flips the open sign and gestures to the register as he walks towards the back. “Don’t forget to order something for the road! On the house, as always.” 

“You are an angel given flesh!” Kuroo calls to Sugawara, and is rewarded with the sound of his cackle echoing from the kitchen, along with something that sounds like,  _ hear that tooru? _

With all his buckets and tools packed onto his cart, Kuroo turns to the counter and immediately catches Tsukishima’s eye. A slow grin curls up the corners of Kuroo’s mouth. He reaches down to the bottom of his cart and pulls out a fresh bouquet, with all the flourish of a magician prepared to dazzle the audience. The blonde stiffens. 

Ah, yes. The highlight of Kuroo’s week. 

“Tsukki ~ ” he purrs as he approaches. 

Each step towards the register winds the blonde up tighter, until he is ramrod straight with his lovely mouth pressed in the thinnest, most pissed off line. “Must we do this every time?” 

“So snappish today, most lovely barista.” Kuroo presents the flowers, a small but colorful selection of reds and purples. “How fitting that I brought you snapdragons. Get it?” 

To his credit, Tsukishima doesn’t crack. He just sighs apologetically, his smile pitying. “I’m allergic.” 

“You said that last time.”    


The smile tightens. “I’m incredibly allergic.” 

Kuroo leans his elbows on the counter, bringing the snapdragons up to his own face and inhaling deeply. The angle lets him gaze up at Tsukishima through his lashes and blink prettily. “Lying isn’t very good customer service, Tsukki.” 

“Good thing you aren’t a paying customer, then.” The blonde repeatedly clicks his thick black pen, the only sign of his agitation. “Your usual? Or something else?”

“My usual.” Kuroo debates pointing out that his usual is tall and dark, like him, but that doesn’t fit the pace of their game today, so instead he straightens up. “What am I supposed to do with these beautiful flowers I so thoughtfully brought you?” 

He pouts and glances around at the other employees, dutifully finishing their own opening tasks and also dutifully eavesdropping. Sometimes he can cajole Baldy into joining in, but it seems like Tsukishima has made his expectations of his coworkers quite clear, because no one takes the bait. Instead, the blonde marks up his cup and slides it down the counter towards Undercut. 

“I suggest thoughtfully taking them with you when you leave,” Tsukishima says coolly. “Or have you exhausted your brain cells for the day? It must be difficult to have so few of them to work with.” 

At the far corner of the counter, Undercut puts a lid on his drink and raises it up to read the label. “One large dark roast for, uh — ” His face goes slightly pink. 

Kuroo spares him the embarrassment of finishing his sentence and accepts the coffee with a grace. A peek at the label has him chuckling delightedly. “Tsk tsk, Tsukki. At least say Handsome Asshole next time.” 

Tsukishima visibly swallows. Kuroo has never been happier. 

“See you next week! Thanks for the coffee,” he calls to the room at large, getting a few waves as he exits. 

He rolls the cart outside, settles his coffee and clipboard in the van, whistling as he loads up the back. When he’s left with just the small bouquet of snapdragons, he hums thoughtfully. Before he gets too far, the shop door jingles and Oikawa steps out, twirling his keys around his finger. 

“Oikawa!” Kuroo flags him down and flashes him a huge grin, wiggling his brows. “Wanna tell me which car is Tsukishima’s? 

It’s a gamble, but he likes his odds. Sure enough, Oikawa considers it. “Glasses-kun? Will it annoy him?” 

“Guaranteed.” 

Oikawa grins back.

The stars align, and a few customers trickle in. Kuroo is able to locate the right car, carefully feed all fourteen snapdragons through the two inch crack in the driver’s side window, and make it safely back to his van before Tsukishima runs out to investigate. Their gazes snag and catch as Kuroo pulls out. This time, Tsukishima can’t completely wipe the reaction off his face, and Kuroo soaks in the full extent of his fury. He waves cheerfully at the fuming blonde as he drives away. 

#

A sane person might back off, or give up after the first disastrous attempts. 

No one has ever praised Kuroo for his caution, though, and besides — all goods things in his life evolved from happy accidents. His second year of undergrad, when Molecular Biology was full and his only other option was to take a botany elective or fall behind, he tripped into his true passion and also met Kai, one of his best friends. After graduation, on a drive late at night when thoughts of his future kept him from sleep, Kuroo passed a ‘land for sale’ sign. A few questionable road maneuvers later, Kuroo scrawled the listing agent’s name on the back of a glove box napkin and called as soon as the office opened the next day. 

Tsukishima Kei is the happiest accident so far. 

The first day Kuroo approached RefreshKing, growing portfolio in hand, he was immediately greeted by the sight of one tall blonde with gorgeous hands and a soft smile carefully pouring a steaming drink for a wide-eyed child. Kuroo watched, transfixed, as he created a dog out of latte foam with a few expert twists of his wrist. 

The kid was ecstatic, accepting the small cup with hearts in their eyes. Tsukishima accepted no praise, just bowed with a faint but beautiful smile. 

“You’re really good at that,” Kuroo blurts out, like the smooth talker he is, when it’s his turn at the register. 

A smile vanished. The dramatic shift was enough to send his pulse spiking. 

“On the contrary, sir, I’m nothing special,” Tsukishima said, dragging his gaze up and down Kuroo. It was impossible to tell if he thought Kuroo was equally unimpressive. “What can I get for you today?” 

It was the eyes, he thinks. That bright gold gaze that flipped so easily from polite to chilly disinterest. It was arresting, really. Consider him arrested. 

Kuroo can’t explain his attraction to the prickly blonde. Tsukishima is mouthy and rude and his ears get adorably red when he’s especially annoyed. Kuroo wants — craves — to flip that gaze to something undiscovered. And to unravel, maybe, how someone could make immaculate animal art out of steamed milk and then disparage himself so thoroughly on the next breath. 

And dammit, the first step is getting the stubborn barista to accept some fucking flowers. 

None of his bouquets have worked so far, but there was always next week. He does have a whole farm at his disposal. 

#

The next week, Kuroo brings a fist full of zinnias. Sugawara distracts him briefly with a question about the latest invoice, and Kuroo makes it all the way back to Black Cat before he discovers the bouquet shoved in his compost bin. 

The week after, it’s sunflowers — worked for Kenma, didn’t it? — five gorgeous Bashfuls, pale yellow deepening to salmon pink near the center. Instead of a promise for a first date, or a cutie like Shrimpy to bring him smoothies on his days off, Kuroo watches Tsukishima “accidentally” drop the vibrant blooms right when Sleepy trudges by and crushes them under his boots. 

For his latest attempt, he chooses daisies, bright white oxeyes with their soft curling petals. Tsukishima is in the back, helping Sugawara with something, so Kuroo leaves them on the counter and takes his coffee with his usual wave. He glances through the front window as he backs the van out of its parking space and gets a perfect view of Tsukishima, standing near the glass, methodically ripping off the petals and dropping them in the trash can, one by one. 

Kuroo can almost hear the rhyme in his head: He hates me, he hates me not, he hates me, he hates me not. 

Their eyes meet and Tsukishima arches a slim blonde eyebrow.

Nope, Kuroo thinks, he definitely hates me. 

  
  


#

“Kenma! Where are you! I’m in distress!” 

Kuroo enters the shop through the back, hunting for his quiet best friend. He wasn’t outside on his break, so he should be handling afternoon orders — which today, apparently, involves pressing his farmhand against the counter and kissing him senseless. 

In the small, objective part of his brain that is not immediately horrified by the sight of his childhood best friend with his tongue down someone’s throat, Kuroo admits that they make a stunning couple. Hinata is muscled and strong but Kenma is clearly in charge, a pale hand anchored firmly on the back of Hinata’s head, wrist deep in those unruly curls. Kuroo clears his throat, as audibly as possible, and enjoys the way Hinata squeaks and shoves Kenma away. 

“Hi, Kuroo!” the ginger stammers. “You’re back! That’s great! Is something wrong with the van? I swear we didn’t do anything, uh, bad in there yesterday. I just — lost my phone!” 

Kenma wipes his mouth on the edge of his sleeve, completely nonplussed except for the twin patches of pink on his cheeks. “Shouyou.” 

“I will pretend that I didn’t hear or see any of this,” Kuroo begins, gesturing broadly to the whole...situation, “if you, Hinata, go unload the van so I can talk to Kenma.” 

Hinata sags in relief and half-runs towards the door. “Deal!”

As soon as they are alone, Kuroo stares at Kenma, eyebrows disappearing under his bands. “Lost his phone, huh?” 

Kenma climbs back onto the stool behind the counter, the small pout on his red lips the only outward sign of his disappointment. “What did you need to talk about?” 

Immediately, Kuroo pictures Tsukishima’s cruel fingers, plucking his flowers to pieces. “I don’t think Tsukki likes me. It’s been over a month and I can’t even get his phone number.” He groans, slumps over the counter, blinks pitifully up at Kenma. “Can he tell I’m in love with him?” 

Sometimes, Kenma watches Kuroo like an ageless immortal being, unamused by the simple struggles of the common man. “It seems like you are getting what you want.”

Kuroo frowns. He hates it when Kenma has a specific point to make but forces Kuroo to get there on his own. “Elaborate, wise one.” 

Kenma shrugs. “You keep bringing him flowers because you enjoy getting a reaction out of him. Not because you want to get to know him.” 

“I disagree!” 

“Kuroo.” Oof, that tone. Kenma’s patience is not exactly endless. “Does Tsukishima even like flowers?” 

Kuroo’s brow furrows. He frowns. “Everyone likes flowers.” 

Kenma reaches for his Switch. 

“Okay! Wait — okay.” Steepling his fingers, Kuroo closes his eyes and really, really thinks. When he opens them again, Kenma is playing his Switch, but he glances up in a way that lets Kuroo know he is still willing to listen. “I like...teasing Tsukki.” 

Kenma nods. “You are an agitator.” 

Kuroo nods back. “Thank you. But I will also admit that maybe…there are better ways to woo someone.” 

“Congratulations. You leveled up.” 

“In what?” 

“Wooing. Flirting. Basic social skills.” 

He decides to let this one go. “Thanks, Kenma-sama,” he says, reaching across before Kenma can object to ruffle his hair in the exact way he hates, relishing Kenma’s grumpy whine. “And stop making out on the clock!” 

#

The next time he walks into RefreshKing on a Sunday morning, he arrives with only the flower cuttings he needs for the weekly arrangements, and nothing more. Tsukishima is already behind the counter, doing something with the industrial size coffee machines, but Kuroo feels the weight of his gaze more than usual. The shop slowly opens, and the blonde fidgets like a wind-up toy waiting to release. Kuroo does his job, checks in with Sugawara, and — the ultimate deviation — goes to collect his cart and leave without once approaching the counter. 

“Hey.” 

The whole room briefly freezes. Baldy openly gapes. Undercut looks mildly panicked. Even Sleepy seems briefly awake. It lasts for all of a second, until Tsukishima clears his throat and continues, “Your drink? Do you want your usual?” 

Kuroo swallows back against the excitement in his chest. “I didn’t know you cared, Tsukki.” 

“It would be rude to refuse Suga-san’s hospitality,” the blonde snaps, “but...do what you want.” 

Walking slowly towards the counter, Kuroo leisurely skims the menu. “Hmm, why don’t you make me your favorite drink?” 

This seems to surprise Tsukishima, but he covers it well, brushing nonexistent dust off the top of the register. “It’s not my fault if you hate it.” 

“I accept the risks.” 

“Okay.” He slowly grabs a to-go cup, as if he expects Kuroo to change his mind, but he only smiles at him. The blonde — to his delight — goes a little pink in the cheeks as he makes the necessary notations. “One lavender latte with coconut milk.”

“And you have to make it!” 

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Fine. Anything else.” 

It does not escape Kuroo’s notice that the blonde glances towards his cart when he asks. 

“No flowers this week, Tsukki,” Kuroo says, quite nonchalantly. 

“Oh? Giving up already?” 

“No.” Kuroo shrugs. “I’m just changing tactics. It hurts my feelings when you throw away my flowers, you know. I’m not giving up. I’m persistent.” 

Tsukishima makes his drink. The espresso machine steams and hisses. “You’re insufferable.” 

Kuroo catches his eyes, grey on gold, and smirks, all teeth. “Yeah, but I think you’re kinda into that.” 

Oh, _oh._ Tsukishima _blushes._

Kuroo declines to comment. This is by far the most successful interaction he’s ever had, and he owes Kenma big time. More days off, a new video game. His own van where he can debauch Shrimpy as much as he wants. 

Tsukishima puts the finishing touches on his drink and lids the cup before carefully passing it over the counter. “Enjoy, if you must.” 

“Thanks! See you next week.” 

Sleepy tugs on his sleep, and Tsukishima turns away before Kuroo can confirm if he was smiling or not, but he’ll chalk this up as a victory. Definitely a point for Kuroo. 

Outside, Kuroo packs the van first, wanting to enjoy his lavender latte — how incredibly sophisticated, perfectly Tsukki — on the drive back to the farm. He pries the lid off, wanting to get a better sniff of the sweet herbal profile before his first sip, and nearly drops his drink in shock. 

Created out of foam, miraculously intact, is a dick. 

An immaculate latte art penis. 

“Jesus Christ.”    


Kuroo sets it in the cup holder before he drops it, laughter shaking out of his core until he is doubled over the front seat nearly in tears. When he can finally stand again, he looks back through the window, and sees Tsukishima watching him. 

Kuroo blows him a kiss. 

The blonde ducks, shoulders up to his ears. 

It is, no contest, the most delicious cup of coffee Kuroo has ever had. 

#

Success invigorates Kuroo, so much so that he returns to RefreshKing on Monday, his day off. He rolls up in his own car, dressed down in street clothes — dark wash jeans, a V-neck shirt. 

To his surprise and disappointment, Tsukishima isn’t behind the counter. Sugawara is, though, and waves happily. 

“Kuroo! Back so soon?” 

“Ah,” Kuroo begins, rubbing the back of his neck, “well, Tsukki made me a pretty amazing latte yesterday. I was hoping he would do it again.” 

“I’m sorry, Tsukishima went home sick today. He wanted to stay, but,” Suga sighs, frowns, “I couldn’t make him work while he clearly felt miserable.” 

“Oh, shit. Uh, that sucks.” Kuroo stalls, immediately torn. Honestly, he wasn’t exactly in the mood for coffee. It wasn’t something he drank every day. The purpose of his visit centered around a specific and unfortunately absent blonde. 

A few gears seem to turn behind Sugawara’s too-clever eyes. “You don’t have to order anything, you know,” he points out, smiling knowingly. “Sometimes the person making your treat is the special part.” 

Out of nowhere, Oikawa yells from the kitchen, voice echoing. “You make everything special, Kou-chan!” 

Kuroo blinks. “How does he do that?” 

“Husband powers.” Sugawara tucks his hair behind his ear. “So?”

“I’ll pass.” He laughs, self-deprecating, and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Sorry for the trouble.” 

Sugawara waves off his apology and leans one hip against the counter, regarding Kuroo with a tilt of his head. “You really just came to see him, huh?” 

“I’m, uh...not subtle.” 

That startles an airy laugh out of the other man. “No, but at least you’re sweet about it.” He pauses thoughtfully, glances around to check that there aren’t any waiting customers, and turns back to Kuroo. “I knew Tsukishima in high school. He’s...really wary, about dating. Other people in his year used to approach him as a joke. Just to mock him, I think. He’s got a lot of sore memories.” 

A sudden heat surges through Kuroo, a tingling in his fists like he wants to track down anyone who dared mistreat Tsukishima Kei and smack them, but the anger washes out with his next breath, leaving only an ache behind. “That’s fucking sick. I would never do that. I — he’s so interesting.” 

It’s not the right word, but Kuroo feels off-center, more shy in front of Sugawara than he’s ever felt before. The man himself is silent, seems to assess Kuroo, and then digs a pen out of his apron pocket. 

“Listen carefully.” The tone in his voice is dead serious and it makes Kuroo stand up straighter. “If I write down Tsukishima’s address on this business card, and you happen to go check on him on behalf of his boss, it’s because I trust that you do actually care about him.” 

Sugawara finishes writing and slaps the business card down on the counter, scoots it forward with one finger. Before Kuroo can even think to reach for it, Sugawara leans forward, a downright ferocious glint in his eyes. “If you misuse or abuse this opportunity, please know that I am close friends with several incredibly ripped and fearless firefighters who can snap you in half.” 

That’s a lot of information. Kuroo breathes deeply, and nods. “I do care about him. And I consider myself sufficiently threatened.” 

Sugawara nods and on the next breath, melts back into his usual bright, beaming self. “Great!” He slides the card over to Kuroo. “Best of luck!” 

Kuroo thanks him, and if he hesitates to turn his back to Sugawara as he leaves, it’s because Sugawara is a little terrifying. 

Back in his own car, Kuroo flips over the business card, stares at Sugawara’s neat handwriting. He inhales, holds, exhales, and pulls up his navigation app. He has Sugawara’s trust. Now he just has to trust himself.

#

It takes several minutes of pacing the hallway outside Tsukishima’s door before Kuroo musters the nerve to knock. To his surprise, the door opens almost immediately to reveal a confused Tsukishima in joggers — shit, his legs are so long — and a light jacket. He looks pale, a little queasy, but most of all he looks pained. Uncomfortable. A feeling that visibly doubles when he sees Kuroo. 

“What….” he trails off, like he can’t decide how exactly to end his sentence. There are plenty of reasonable options: what are you doing here, what do you want. 

Kuroo spares him having to choose. “Sugawara said you were sick. And, uh, I offered to check on you.” 

“How noble of you,” Tsukishima mumbles, eyes narrowing. “I’ll be fine. I don’t have the energy for mind games today.” 

“Yeah, I mean, no. I agree.” Goddamn, he feels off-center. At least with a bouquet he had a plan, a script he could follow. Now he just has his own heart, jumping erratically in his chest. “No games. I really just wanted to check on you.” 

He spies a wallet and keys and what appears to be a grocery list clutched in Tsukishima’s hand. “I could,” he says hesitantly, gesturing, “I could go to the store for you? If you wanted?” 

Tsukishima chews on his bottom lip. “Don’t you have better things to do?” 

“I’m off today.” Kuroo shoves his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t do something completely foolish, like brush aside Tsukishima’s wavy bangs to check his temperature. “And I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. Or I can leave. But no offense, you look like shit. You could just get comfy while I do the physical labor.” 

Tsukishima leans one shoulder against the doorway, chewing on his thoughts. “That’s...nice of you,” he decides, and grimaces, like the idea of Kuroo being kind doesn’t sit well with him. It would be offensive if the sight of his nose scrunching up wasn’t so adorable. “If you’re really that bored….” 

He holds out the shopping list, and Kuroo takes it, bringing it up to his face to decipher Tsukishima’s surprisingly loopy handwriting. 

And then the blonde jerks upright, inhales suddenly like his brain is catching up with him. “Wait — ”

Too late. Kuroo reads the list: ibuprofen, night pads, tampons, soup, tea, 

Kuroo reads. Kuroo has two older sisters, and Kuroo comprehends. 

Tsukishima Kei is on his period. 

Unbidden, Sugawara’s voice replays: other people used to approach him as a joke. Just to mock him, I think....

Kuroo has fucked this up. 

Tsukishima snatches the list back. His face is blotchy red, sweaty near his hairline, honeycomb eyes bright and scared. It hits Kuroo like a punch to the stomach, that Tsukishima just outed himself, and he clearly didn’t want to, and Kuroo isn’t saying anything. The blonde backs up and fumbles to shut the door. Kuroo panics and says, 

“I’m extremely gay.” 

It’s enough of a non sequitur for Tsukishima to pause, brows scrunched up, and look at Kuroo like he’s lost his mind. “...Okay?” 

“I like men. I’ve only ever liked men. I’m just so keenly interested in men.”    


Kuroo’s filter is gone, and he’s saything this all wrong. Tsukishima sniffs, blinks away actual tears, and Kuroo wants to throw himself on the ground and apologize. Fuck.

“It’s — fine,” the blonde says, haltingly but like this is what he expected, what he thinks he deserves. It kills Kuroo. “I get it.” 

“No, no, Tsukki — please,” he begs, and nearly sags with relief when the other boy pauses, door still half open between them. Kuroo collects his thoughts and tries again. “I’m exclusively interested in men, and I’ve never once been interested in any guy like I’m interested in you.” 

Tsukishima’s jaw drops and immediately snaps back up in an audible click. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. Fuck, Tsukki, you’re smart and so hot and a huge bitch but I’m so very, very interested. If you have periods, it’s — it doesn’t change that. You’re still the guy that I like.” 

Tsukishima hides his face behind his arm, wiping his eyes. Kuroo gives him time, takes in the self-conscious way his arm curls around his stomach. He wants to pull him into a huge hug and rub his back and tell him all the other dozen, tiny things he likes about him, but Kuroo waits. 

Finally, Tsukishima lowers his arm. Doesn’t quite meet his eyes, but offers the list. 

“I can give you some cash.” 

Kuroo takes the scrap of paper, lets their fingers brush. “Absolutely not. Just tell me what brands you like.” That startles Tsukishima, and Kuroo grins. “Come on, I’m sure you’ve got preferences. We gotta get you comfy, right?” 

“Right,” Tsukishima echoes, adjusting his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

He rattles off some brands and Kuroo makes a note in his phone. Kuroo promises to be back quickly, waving as he backpedals towards the stairs. Tsukishima hesitates, but waves back. 

There’s a market down the street where he’s pretty sure he can get everything he needs. Halfway down the stairs, genius strikes, and he texts Kai. 

**kuroo:** yo can u get shorty to meet me at this address with a bag of the a+p blend?

**kai:** hi kuroo  
**kai:** i’m well, thanks for asking

**kuroo:** kai this is important  
**kuroo:** can you pls package some of ur amazing tea?  
**kuroo:** just one sample!  
**kuroo:** it’s for someone at refresh king 

**kai:** I’m suspicious but okay

**kuroo:** employee of the month! 

**kai:** i own half this business 

**kuroo:** the better half <3 

**kai:** text me the address

**kuroo:** thank u  
**kuroo:** kai  
**kuroo:** say it back <3

**kai:** <3

#

Kuroo returns forty minutes later with one bag from the corner store and one small paper sack from a confused but supportive Hinata. 

This time, Tsukishima opens the door in purple leggings (cute) and a large floppy sweater (cute, cute). He seems freshly showered, which is a good sign, though he still looks miserable. Kuroo is determined to fix that. 

“Let me make you tea,” he says as he toes off his shoes and follows the blonde into his apartment. 

Tsukishima gestures one sweater-paw towards the kitchen. “Kettle’s on the stove.” 

“Do you have a infuser?” 

The other man pauses, eyes narrowed. “Why?” 

Kuroo lifts up the paper sack, shakes it a little. “I brought homemade tea.” 

His eyes narrow further. 

“Okay, rude. I didn’t make it. That better?” Tsukishima nods and with his grace, Kuroo steps into the kitchen and sets his load down on the counter. “Kai, my business partner, he’s been experimenting with herbal teas and remedies. Everything in here was grown at the farm.” 

He opens the sack and takes out a small metal canister, branded with the Black Cat logo on the top. Tsukishima takes it carefully, reads the label, and then twists off the lid and breathes in deeply. Once, twice. 

“Infuser’s in the cabinet,” he finally says, passing the tea back to Kuroo and pointing to a narrow cabinet between the microwave at the fridge. “Next to the mugs. Don’t break anything.” 

“I can make tea, Tsukki,” Kuroo replies, exasperated. He fishes the package of ibuprofen out of the other bag. “Go sit and take two of these.” 

“Bossy,” Tsukishima snatches the package away and shuffles off to the living room. Kuroo smiles. 

The kettle is red ceramic and good quality. Kai would approve. Kuroo starts water and then snoops through the cabinet, gasping gleefully when he discovers a truly impressive mug collection. There’s one shaped like a triceratops, another like a whale, and one covered in Egyptian hieroglyphs. He flips it over, glances at the stamp on the bottom: Sendai City Museum. 

Tsukishima Kei is a nerd! So fucking cute.

The water heats, and Kuroo packs the infuser with a few teaspoons of the aromatic blend. He scrolls on his phone until the kettle whistles and watches with a grin as hot water fills the mug — he opted for the triceratops — and smoky curls of red and pink seep out of the infuser. He hopes it helps. If nothing else, he wants to leave knowing Tsukishima is comfortable. 

When he steps into the living room with a steaming mug of tea, he finds Tsukishima curled up on one of the sofa, wrapped in a large fuzzy blanket...covered in very whimsical frogs. 

Tsukishima glares, challenging. Kuroo chooses life, and doesn’t comment. 

“This is our Aches & Pains remedy,” he explains, offering Tsukishima the mug. “It’s got lemon balm, fennel seed, dandelion root, a little peppermint, some clove. A few other things for flavor and aroma. Kai can explain better than I can.” He knows he’s rambling, knows he is staring, but Tsukishima is so utterly soft and disarming with his glasses fogging up and pretty mouth pursed and blowing cool air gently across the rippling surface of his drink. “You’re actually one of our first taste testers, so you’ll have to let me know what you think next time — ”

“Hey,” the blonde finally interrupts. “You can stay.” 

Kuroo blinks. “Oh, you sure? If you want to rest….”

The blonde sighs, mumbles into his mug. “Iwantyoutostay.”

“What was that?” 

“You’re a moron,” Tsukishima hisses, and then collects himself. Sticks out a foot and nudges the empty seat beside him with his toe. “I want you to stay. Sit down and stop hovering. The mother hen act doesn’t suit you.” 

Happiness swells and buzzes through Kuroo, and he knows he must be grinning like a fool as he settles down on the couch. Tsukishima finally takes a sip, and then a second, humming. 

“This is good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Thank you.” Tsukishima shifts, drinks more. “It smells amazing, too. Kind of...floral? Sweet?”

Kuroo has to think for a minute. “Oh! That’s probably the dried peonies.” 

“I like it,” Tsukishima admits, blushing prettily. “My grandmother used to grow those.” 

The idea of a younger Tsukishima sitting in his grandmother’s garden, all tall and long-limbed and perfect, makes Kuroo’s own face grow hot. “I’ll bring you peonies.” He pulls his legs up onto the sofa, twisting until they’re facing each other. He slides one socked foot across the space between them until he can poke at Tsukishima’s blanket nest. “But only if you promise not to throw them away!” 

Tsukishima huffs and turns away, but not so quickly that Kuroo can’t catch the way the corner of his mouth twitches. “I’ll think about it.”   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments and kudos are loved and adored. this author responds to comments. <3 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/greenywrites)   
> 


End file.
